268 
FOREST AND STREAM 
a pyramid tent 7 feet by 7 feet, a cork mattress 
for the boat, and pneumatic life belt and water 
bottle. Each canoe carried single and double 
blade paddles. The outfit of each canoe weig'hed 
about 200 pounds. 
The cruise started from the Knickerbocker 
Canoe Club, 167th street and Hudson river, on 
Friday evening at 8 o’clock. We paddled up the 
Hudson to Spuyten Duyvil with the last of the 
flood tide, through Spuyten Duyvil Creek and 
down to Harlem River, landing at the Lone Star 
Boat Club at 10 o’clock, where through the cour¬ 
tesy of one of the members we put up for the 
night, sleeping in our bags on the float. On 
Saturday morning we were up at daybreak, and 
to catch the last of the ebb tide down the Harlem 
and through the Bronx Kills we decided to forego 
breakfast and “get moving.’’ We loaded up the 
boats and started about 5 o’clock to paddle down 
the Harlem. We kept time by the sun, so no very 
accurate record was kept of the exact time of 
reaching points along the route. Reaching Ran¬ 
dalls Island we skirted the north of it through 
the Kills and hugged the Bronx shore, passing 
to the north of Rikers Island to Throgs Neck, 
where we crossed the “Sound” to a point above 
Little Neck Bay. We kept about a mile off shore 
passing Manhasset Bay. About 10 o’clock we 
passed between Execution Light and Sands Point 
Light. 
It was misty on the Sound, and the Fog Siren 
at Execution Light was whistling its warning, 
impressing us with the fact that we were on big 
water. Passing Hempstead Harbor we landed 
just the other side of Matinicock Point about 
noon, jumped in for a swim, and had a combina¬ 
tion breakfast and lunch of cantalope, canned 
salmon and bread. After an hour’s rest we pad- 
died to Oyster Bay. For about two hours that 
morning we were followed by a school of unusu¬ 
ally large porpoises. Crossing Oyster Bay, we 
reached Lloyds Neck and the entrance to Hunt¬ 
ington Bay and landed for a swim. We started 
across Huntington Bay at 3 :30. 
A cracking good sou’west breeze sprang up, 
and hoisting sail we passed Eatons Point into 
Smithtown Bay in quick time; then started a 
strenuous drive, with the wind shoving us along 
at a clip that made the spray fly in a choppy sea. 
About half way across Smithtown bay, we sight¬ 
ed Crane Neck point in the distance, but so far 
away that it appeared to be a little sand dune. 
We knew that to make that point before dark 
we would have to drive along and take advantage 
of the full strength of the wind every minute. 
We were so far from shore that it was necessary 
for us to head in to make the point, and our two 
boats kept up the pace neck and neck. At dusk 
we landed at Crane Neck point, just this side of 
Port Jefferson, tired, hungry, but highly elated 
with our first day’s run. In a half hour we had 
a swim, our tent was up, and a “three-in-one 
meal” was in preparation. We had a hearty sup¬ 
per with music by a sympathetic mosquito 
orchestra. After cleaning up the dishes we 
crawled into our sleeping bags. Fair weather, 
southerly winds and choppy seas marked the first 
day’s weather. 
On Sunday we were up with the sun and made 
short work of getting breakfast, eating it while 
packing the boats. With little or no breeze we 
paddled to Old Field point light at the entrance 
to Port Jefferson harbor, and replenished our 
water supply for the first time. After a swim 
we paddled across the harbor and landed further 
on at Mt. Sinai beach, where we had another 
swim and a lunch of cold salmon sandwiches. We 
loafed around on the beach until a little after 
noon, as the weather was sultry and there was 
no breeze blowing. Tiring of this we resumed 
our paddle, and about half way to Herod’s point 
we jumped out of the boats without landing and 
had another swim. We reached Herod's point 
about 3 o’clock, and noticed the flag on shore 
commencing to flap. In fifteen minutes a cork¬ 
ing breeze was shoving us ahead, and Herod 
point was soon far astern. 
Our objective point that day was Horton’s 
Point, which we reckoned to be about four miles 
west of our carry into Shelter Island sound. 
Upon looking at the map we found we had our 
work cut out for us if we were to make Horton’s 
Point before night fall. We accordingly headed 
out into the Sound until we were about five miles 
off shore, and kept plugging away with our sheet 
lines lashed, lee boards up and putting all our 
"beef” into steering as the steady wind sent 
squalls along frequently enough to keep us on 
the jump to avoid slewing around out of our 
course. 
At about five o’clock, a point came into view to 
starboard, and judging from its distance and 
from the fact that we could discern a white speck 
on its crest, we decided it was Horton’s Point 
light house, and ran in a little to make sure. Just 
as we were abeam of the point we discovered it 
was not Horton’s Point, but Duck Pond Point, 
and that the white speck we had seen was a sum¬ 
mer cottage, not a light house. Looking ahead 
now we were able to discern a point dead ahead 
of us, so far away that we could just barely 
guess where the land met the water, and we were 
confident that this must be Horton’s Point. It 
was about six o'clock, and we expected to land 
at Horton's about nine o'clock that night. Far 
away though the point seemed, it was as near to 
us as any land ahead, so we pointed straight for 
;t with bellying sails. 
The wind came stronger and stronger all the 
time, and our boats now began to jump a wave 
occasionally and plow into the next one, which 
kept our bows level with the water when dipping 
into them. Sometimes the water which washed 
over, when the boats recovered, would rush 
astern into our laps. We were going now like 
birds awing, and the rudder on one boat pulled 
up a stern wave as high as the stern. The other 
boat was being steered by paddle, and the arms 
of the steersman in that boat were numb from 
the pull. 
At dusk we came abeam of Horton’s Point 
light, and just as we rounded the point the first 
rays from the light house reflectors shone out. 
Once the other side of the point was reached we 
were able to see a clearing about three miles 
down the shore and immediately decided that this 
must be the point of our carry into Shelter Island 
Sound. We landed in the darkness on a fine 
pebbly beach, cramped, wet and hungry. The 
boats were hauled ashore and unloaded, the stove 
started and the water put on for coffee in a jiffy, 
and then a cool plunge in the Sound before sup¬ 
per, which consisted of bacon and eggs, bread, 
coffee and canned peaches. We no sooner had 
the dishes cleaned than the moon came up, and 
we unrolled our sleeping bags on the highest 
point of the beach. That night we slept without 
a tent. We put the frame work of our folding 
chairs over our heads, covered with mosquito 
netting, but even with this precaution our sleep 
was merely a succession of dozes, for the pesky 
mosquito somehow managed to get in. 
We were up at daybreak Monday. We found 
that our carry was over a considerable portion of 
sandy beach, across a road, and then through eel 
grass to the small inlet to Shelter Island Sound. 
About seven o’clock we began our quarter-mile 
carry, and it took two hours. The portage was 
extremely fatiguing on account of the sand. 
After loading our boats we started to paddle for 
the railroad trestle about half a mile away which 
separates this inlet from Shelter Island Sound. 
Reaching Shelter Island Sound, we found a stiff 
breeze from the west, and we hoisted sail for a 
beat to windward which would carry us past 
Great Hog Neck and over to Jessup’s Neck. We 
landed on the westerly point of Shelter Island 
about 10:30. Here we had a refreshing swim 
and some lunch. About noon we decided to pad¬ 
dle to Jessup's Neck, which is at the eastern en¬ 
trance to Little Peconic Bay. 
The wind was blowing across Noyack- Bay di¬ 
rectly in our face so we decided to paddle 
Jessup's Neck, from the point we started from 
on Shelter Island is about three and a half miles, 
and we had a good steady buck against a stiff 
wind and a choppy sea all the way. As we 
passed Jessup's Neck and hit into Little Peconic 
bay, the wind started to come up in squalls, anct 
soon quite a sea was running. The oyster boats 
near the north side of the bay were swinging and 
dipping as though engaged in a lively turkey 
trot. We paddled about three miles into Little 
Peconic, until the wind became so strong that our 
progress was not worth the effort. Then we 
headed for shore, landed, to wait for better 
weather. About four o’clock the wind had sub¬ 
sided somewhat, although it was still blowing 
heavily. But that day’s progress had been so 
slow that we decided to go on and make the point 
at the entrance to Great Peconic bay opposite 
Robin’s island. We paddled down the shore line 
of Little Peconic with a long steady driving 
stroke, passing many delightful stretches of 
woodland. At about 6:30 we saw the end of Little 
Peconic, which was our objective point for the 
night. We reached this point about fifteen min¬ 
utes before darkness fell, and landed, thoroughly 
tired, to be greeted by swarms of mosquitos. Up 
higher on the beach they were swirling in im¬ 
mense swarms. No sooner had we emerged from 
the water after a swim than we had to dive for 
our clothes, fan with one hand, dress with the 
other, meanwhile doing a snake dance all over 
the beach. We finally took on a wintry aspect 
as we clothed our selves heavily from head to 
feet, from woolen socks to mackinaw or sweater 
and only our nose and eyes showing. In this way 
we managed with some comfort to cook and eat 
supper, put up the tent and get things settled for 
the night. Before going to bed we let down the 
mosquito netting flap and killed every mosquito 
in the tent. Then we dug into our blankets for 
sweet dreams. 
On Tuesday we were awakened at daybreak 
by the wind roaring outside our tent, and we 
“kicked” out of our bags and into the open to 
find a nor’easter tearing up things on the Great 
Peconic. It was one of those dull grey mornings 
when a mackinaw feels good. Our first objective 
point was Canoe Place, so we didn’t wait to have 
breakfast but packed our duffle in the boats, 
hoisted sail immediately, and then commenced a 
good lively tussle with the wind. At times squalls 
would whip our sails around in front of the mast 
in with the boat, and both of us were soon good 
and wet. A sea was running on the Great 
Peconic at least eight feet high, with great 
smothering white caps which gave us a boat load 
of water when they happened to wash aboard 
whenever the wind would slew us around abeam 
of them. We made the first few miles through 
the Great Peconic at a fast clip, until a particu¬ 
larly nasty squall ripped the mast step out of one 
of the boats, splitting two ribs. We both lowered 
sail, and paddled the rest of the way to Canoe 
Place. We were obliged to land once to get our 
bearing inasmuch as we passed two inlets. Then, 
about seven o’clock, we headed into the small 
canal at Canoe Place which leads into Shinnecock 
Bay on the South Shore of the Island. 
(To be continued in next issue.) 
